


It Will Rain

by bubbly (jeely)



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeely/pseuds/bubbly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagase remembers the phone call; how could he not?  It was less than a week ago.  Three a.m. on a cold December morning.  The details are burned into his brain - the fading scent of tobacco lingering in the air, the calmness to Gussan’s voice, the early December chill creeping its way through his bones.  It was one of the worst experiences of his life, but as Nagase watches Miwako cling to her father’s hand, her tiny cheeks pink in the cold, he realizes there is hope in this world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Will Rain

**Author's Note:**

> For micehell at je_holiday! My first Nagase/Gussan, but I had a blast with it. :)

The ground is dusted with snow when Gussan's wife is lowered into her final resting place. Miwako clings to her father's hand as he says his goodbyes. She's only four, but she has the eyes of an old soul.

The accident came out of nowhere, as these things are prone to do. A swerve too fast on a slick road, an unfortunately placed pole, two fires further in the city delaying the response team. It all added up to Gussan suddenly being a single parent. A single parent to a four-year-old girl.

Nagase remembers the phone call; how could he not? It was less than a week ago. Three a.m. on a cold December morning. The details are burned into his brain - the fading scent of tobacco lingering in the air, the calmness to Gussan’s voice, the early December chill creeping its way through his bones. It was one of the worst experiences of his life, but as Nagase watches Miwako cling to her father’s hand, her tiny cheeks pink in the cold, he realizes there is hope in this world.

 _*click*_

\---

“We were in the process of getting a divorce,” Gussan tells him calmly a few weeks later.

“I’m sorry, what?” Nagase’s blindsided for a moment. He thought they’d been relatively happy.

Nagase’s got his weekly Disney princess movie date with Miwako while Gussan takes classes at the local culinary school. He can’t count the number of times he’s been forced to wear a tiara on Thursday nights while watching Tangled over and over, but he’s pretty sure it’s somewhere in the thousands at this point. Miwako’s mom had been an evening shift nurse at the local hospital, so it was left to “Unka Tomo” to take over babysitting duties. (It’s not so bad, he supposes. Miwako is adorable and she likes the same ice cream flavors and being thrown really high in the air. They have a tacit understanding that Daddy is not to know about the ice cream and airplane game. It has worked out pretty well so far.)

Gussan just shrugs and tosses another of Miwako’s tiny socks in the laundry room. “She was seeing one of the doctors at the hospital. We haven’t shared a bed in months. He proposed about a month ago, and we agreed it was time to make it right.”

Nagase’s mouth is hanging open, but he can’t find the energy to snap it shut.

Looking up at him, Gussan smiles sadly and chuckles. “I know. Believe me,” he sighs heavily. “I know.”

Movie night is somewhat more subdued than usual, though Nagase pulls out all the stops - glitter eyeshadow and all. Miwako is distracted, a little sniffly, curling against Nagase’s side and passing out a full half hour before her bedtime. Nagase deposits her in her big girl bed, drops a light kiss on her tiny forehead and flips off the light. He takes a moment to stand in the doorway watching her sleep peacefully. He’s never really wanted to procreate, but if he did, he’d want a daughter just like her, he thinks.

 _*click*_

\---

Mabo won’t stop bitching about the lack of band practice and if he weren’t so gigantic, Nagase would definitely punch him right in the kidney. But he could probably take Nagase (or at least match him punch-for-punch) and they have their Christmas show coming up, so really, they probably should try to smoosh in at least one more jam session before the gig.

If there was one thing Nagase had wanted as a child, it was to be a rock star when he grew up. And also a train set big enough to ride. He’s working on both. For the moment, though, he’s the lead singer of Hokkaidough, a rock/new age fusion band. It’s not glamorous (yet) and they don’t make much money (yet), but Nagase loves getting up on stage and rocking out. Even if it means he has to work at the combini three nights a week to make ends meet. At least he gets free slushies and nachos. (Nagase is a man with his priorities in order.)

They’ve just finished the third song in their mix (“Momma Knits with the Blood of My Enemies” - a real upbeat number), when they take a break.

“So they were really breaking up?” Mabo asks, spinning one of his drumsticks around his long fingers.

Nagase sips his water and nods. “Yup. She was banging one of the doctors at the hospital.”

“That’s like some Grey’s Anatomy level shit,” Mabo replies, banging out a quick bah-dun-tss.

“Gussan was actually totally cool about it.” Nagase presses the bottle of water against his lower lip and ponders, leaning against the mic stand. “I mean, he was upset about her dying, of course, we all are. But I don’t know. I guess they both checked out of the relationship so long ago...” He trails off, looking into the distance.

Mabo just snorts a small laugh and taps on his drums. It’s a few moments before Nagase returns to planet earth and watches Mabo do what he does best for a minute. He smiles.

 _*click*_

\---

“What is that? What are you doing with your hands?”

Nagase jumps, startled out of his skin and nearly dropping his champagne flute. He’s never been terribly fond of champagne, but hey, it was free and he’s not a man to turn down a free drink.

“God, Taichi, you little midget, you fucking scared me,” Nagase scowls and pushes him away with one hand.

Taichi straightens and reclaims his spot next to Nagase, brushing imaginary dust from the shoulders of his suit. It’s the fourth year in a row he’s hosted his annual Christmas party and Nagase’s having a hard time remembering why he hangs out with the little dickhead. Didn’t they break up like six years ago? And yet Nagase still finds himself friends with the little runt. He could admit Taichi was amusing, at least. When he wasn’t being a total asshole.

“That thing, with your hands, what was that about?” he asks again, holding up his own hands in mock formation.

Nagase blushes and coughs a little. “Iwastakingapicture.”

“I’m sorry,” Taichi says, leaning close and putting one hand to his ear. “What was that?”

“I was taking a picture,” Nagase replies, irritated. He lifts his hands again as if holding a camera, framing the shot of Miwako in her Christmas party dress sitting on Gussan’s lap, the two of them whispering conspiratorily and sharing a piece of cake.

Taichi just looks at him blankly for a moment before a sly smile crosses his face.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Nagase scowls down at him, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I was just making a memory, okay? Jeez.”

“I’d make a memory of him in that suit, too,” Taichi smirks. He nudges Nagase in the side and ignores the squeak of protest. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I get to embarrass you publicly again?”

“Oh my god, there is nothing going on would you leave me alone please?” Nagase says, exasperated. He really needs another drink and another of those amazing puffy things Taichi always has catered in.

An hour later, Miwako is all but passed out on her daddy’s shoulder, Gussan rubbing one hand lightly up and down her back. Nagase’s across the room when he raises his hands once more and smiles.

 _*click*_

\---

“I was gay once,” Mabo says, apropos of nothing during their last rehearsal of the year. The other guys have gone outside to smoke while Nagase fiddles with the settings on the amps and Mabo is....Mabo.

Nagase turns slowly, his eyes wide. Mabo is calmly twirling his drumsticks as if announcing you were gay to your best friend were no big deal. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Wasn’t too bad,” Mabo continues, smiling off into space. “But I like boobs too much, so.” He shrugs.

“Uh...okay?” Nagase turns back around, shaking his head. He himself came out years ago, but Mabo’s past gay experience is news to him.

“I’m just saying,” Mabo says just over Nagase’s shoulder, making him jump and squeak a little. Mabo puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles fondly. “Just because he was married doesn’t mean he can’t also want to be with you one day. Maybe even today.”

Nagase ogles at him for a moment, confused as fuck before realizing. _Oh._

Mabo lifts his hands cheekily and smiles.

 _*click*_

\---

Miwako’s maternal grandparents have taken her for the weekend in an effort to give Gussan a break and stay in her life as much as they can. Gussan appreciates both of these things, Nagase knows. As glad as he was for the impending divorce (that apparently no one knows about), Gussan still loved his wife in some way. He got Miwako out of their relationship, and that was the greatest thing she could have ever given him.

Nagase arrives at Gussan’s door at 7 p.m. with a case of beer and the latest action/thriller/semi-romance (really, there are just boobs) that he could find. It’s weird not having Miwako underfoot and noisy, as four-almost-five-year-olds tend to be. Her birthday’s in a few weeks (“don’t forget my present, Unka Tomo!” she’d commanded, crossing her little arms seriously) and she’s as much of a handful as ever. Nagase continues his weekly movie dates with her for the sake of stability in her life, though with the winter classes over and spring not yet begun, Gussan’s been initiated into the princess league as well some nights (tiara and sparkly makeup and all). It’s almost like having a proper family, if Nagase were about a foot shorter and got rid of both the penis and facial hair. He shrugs to himself and grins anyway. Families are what you make, not what you’re born with. Nagase’s been worried about Gussan playing both mother and father, but two months in, he seems to be doing okay.

At least until the drinking starts.

They’re about four beers and thirty minutes into the movie when Gussan loses it. Nagase’s never seen him cry and he’s not sure what to do with himself. Hug him? Pat him on the back? Awkwardly sit at the other end of the couch and wait it out? Yeah, let’s go with that one, he thinks. Nagase holds out for thirty seconds of silent weeping, watching Gussan’s back shake with the effort, curled over into himself, before he breaks and slides across the couch to pull his friend close.

“It’ll be okay,” Nagase says, patting Gussan awkwardly on the back. Now is definitely not the time to be thinking about how lovely he smells or Jesus, the size of his biceps (how is he human?). Now is the time to be comforting his friend when Gussan looks at him, eyes puffy and tears streaming down his face, and Nagase finally thinks “yeah, I definitely want more than just friends.”

Their lips meet somewhere in the middle; it’s as if a rift has open up in time and space and Nagase is falling through it slowly. Part of him feels bad about possibly taking advantage of a friend in need, but Gussan’s lips are much softer than he’d imagined (not that he would ever be imagining such things, no, of course not) and he’s not exactly forcing himself on said friend. If anything, Gussan is rather enthusiastically returning Nagase’s every kiss, every breath, every sigh. They pull apart in tandem and Nagase is frozen in the moment, torn between laughing with joy and screaming in terror. What has he done? Oh, right, he just made out with his best friend and father of his godchild. That was it.

Gussan smiles a bit hazily for a moment and Nagase feels his heart leap....then plunge into darkness as Gussan’s expression falls.

“Oh shit,” he breathes, bringing one hand up to rub at his face.

“Yeah,” Nagase agrees. He’s not sure what he’s agreeing to, he just wants to get back to that part where they were kissing.

Gussan stands, moves away, clicks off the TV. He won’t look at Nagase’s face and for one fleeting moment, Nagase thinks “holy crap, shit just got real.” Then he turns and it’s like all the joy has been sucked out of the room. Nagase has a fleeting moment of wondering where the effing Dementor is when he realizes nope, it’s just Gussan, staring at him with that look Nagase is all too familiar with.

“We can’t do this,” Gussan says, and Nagase can practically do the speech along with him.

“You don’t have a real job,” Nagase says flatly, looking down at his hands. “You can’t make a living on music. How do I explain it to Miwako? Et cetera.” He looks back up at Gussan and for the first time, sees the battle raging behind Gussan’s eyes. The want and the need and the desire mingling with the confusion and sadness. “It’s okay, Tatsuya. I understand.”

He’s at the door before Gussan catches his arm.

“Please understand, Tomoya,” Gussan says quietly. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I have to think of Miwako. I have to be a mother and a father and I just....I can’t.”

Nagase smiles sadly and pulls his arm away. “I do understand,” he replies. “Miwako comes first, always. Let me know if you want me to do princess night next week. Or not. I get it either way.”

Holding up his hands, Nagase fights back the tears burning at the corners of his eyes and smiles.

 _*click*_

\---

“It’s almost Christmas again!” he writes in cheerful, blocky lettering. “I hope you’ve been a good girl. Have you written to Santa yet? I should be home in time for Uncle Taichi’s Christmas party. I love you, silly girl. Be good.”

Nagase finishes off the letter and stuffs it in an envelope. It’s only the latest in a long string of penpal letters to his favorite girl. Sometimes he inquires about Gussan, but usually he just keeps it light and fun. Miwako’s getting ready to enter kindergarten, full of energy and too much smarts for her own good. Nagase misses her every day.

He sighs and leans back in his rather comfy seat. They’re cruising at 30,000 miles above the ocean, coming back from a short leg of his tour in Okinawa. Just following “The Incident” (as Taichi so eloquently named it), Hokkaidough had been signed to a small independent label. Nagase threw himself into his music, writing new songs about love and loss, about growing up and moving on. About missing your favorite girl.

His new manager, a strange little thing called Leader, nervously looks on as Nagase seals his latest letter to Miwako. The returns letters have all been adorable, pictures of Miwako as she’s grown littered throughout. It’s been months since he last saw her. Since he last saw _him_.

“You’re getting noticed now, Nagase,” Leader says quietly, his voice a bit shaky. Nagase’s still not sure how to deal with him, his usual antics only seeming to upset the man more. “You’ll need to be more careful with your correspondence, you know.”

Nagase scoffs and reclines the chair slightly. “I don’t think the press will be at all interested in my five year old penpal,” he replies. He can hear Leader breathe a quiet sigh of relief and wonders what the man truly thinks of him if he thought Nagase was writing dirty or inappropriate letters. Sure, he doesn’t have the best image, but still. He’s an alright guy, right? Nagase Tomoya, upstanding citizen! Well, mostly.

By the time they’re back in Tokyo, it’s time for another leg of the tour, another round of hotel rooms, bad food, midnight runs to the combinis for cigarettes and booze. More than once Nagase misses Disney princess night, even the glittery eyeshadow. He says this to Miwako in one of his letters, even goes out to buy special Cinderella stickers for the seal.

It’s already Christmas Eve when things begin to slow down. Nagase can’t believe it’s been over a year since Gussan’s wife passed. It’s been almost a year since he last spoke to Gussan. Nine months and fourteen days, to be exact. But who’s counting?

Taichi’s party is already in full swing when Nagase gets there, fancy wine in hand. The band has tagged along this year, all of them excited about free food and booze and the chance to relax for a few days. They haven’t even all gotten in the door when Leader is sidelined by Taichi.

“Nice to see you, too, runt,” Nagase says, cuffing him on the shoulder as he walks by. “Try not to traumatize my manager, would you?”

Leader looks halfway between terrified and turned on as Taichi turns to Nagase and grins devilishly. “Oh, I will,” he promises.

Nagase doesn’t get to see Leader’s reaction before he’s moving away, scanning the room for his Christmas present.

And suddenly, there they are, like no time has passed at all. Miwako’s gotten bigger, her hair a bit longer. It looks like she’s had her bangs trimmed. And oh goodness, she has her ears pierced. Such a big girl. Nagase’s heart is in his throat, tears catching the corners of his eyes when she screams “Unka Tomo!” and comes bolting at him, wrapping her little arms around his legs and bouncing happily.

Nagase laughs and tosses her up in the air catching her on the descent for kisses all over her face. Her tiny hands are on his cheeks, looking at him with the eyes of an old soul when he finally hears the voice he’d been waiting for say “click.”

Nagase and Miwako turn in unison to look at Gussan, his eyes shining with tears and a bright smile across his face, his hands raised in camera formation. Nagase’s stomach flips as all the feelings come rushing back - the want and the need and the fear of the unknown. They’re all pushed away as Gussan wraps one arm around Miwako and uses the other to pull Nagase down for a kiss.

“Welcome home,” he whispers, sliding his hand down to grasp Nagase’s free hand. “And I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting Miwako, but if anything, you’re exactly what she needs.”

Miwako looks between them, confused, before planting her own kiss on Nagase’s cheek. “See, just like Daddy!” she squeals, clapping her hands delightedly.

“Just like Daddy,” Nagase smiles. He pulls them both closer and smiles. They have so many more memories to make. This time, together.


End file.
